Posted in Fiction, Flash Back Friday, writing

Flash Back Friday

This was a short story I did almost 2 years ago. I’ve done a bit of editing on it and I’m still thinking of adding another chapter. Hope you enjoy!

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The Man in the Fedora

I was sitting at my desk, wondering if I should just give it up for the day and find a good stiff drink. When he came strolling in. His name, Robert Holden.  He looked like he stepped out of an old 1940’s movie set.  You know the type, tall, good-looking, strong chin and steely eyes. He was dressed in a suit that cost more than  I make in a year. With a gray overcoat and a black fedora hat. I do love a man who looks good in a fedora. He did, very good, in fact.

My name’s DeeDee Watson, Private Eye. Yeah, a private detective. My parents don’t like it and my older brother gives me hell about it every time we see each other. But, I love what I do. I would say it pays the bills, but at this point in time it doesn’t. Business has been slow. I refuse to do divorce cases. You want pictures of your spouse cheatin’ on you, you take them. I’m not going to do that kind of work. Yeah, I know it’s the bread and butter of the private eye’s. Guess I’ll take my bread sans butter. I was  sitting looking at the stack of bills and my empty bank account, when in walks the Fedora.

I see him sizing me up. That’s okay, I’m sizing him up too. What I see is a rich man, with no emotion in his eyes. Now my curiosity is engaged. What’s a rich man like him doing in a run down office like mine? He stops just inside the door.

“I want to talk to D. Watson.” he demands.

“I don’t do divorce cases,” I state, maybe just a bit more emphatic than need be. He irritated  me with his tone.

“I’m not married,” Fedora snapped. “Who are you?”

“DeeDee Watson.”  I saw something flicker in his  eyes for just a second.

“I thought you were the receptionist.”

He stands in front of my beat up, scarred desk  and I feel compelled to stand and offer my hand.

“Does this place look like it can afford a receptionist?”

I grasp his warm hand, his handshake is firm but brief. I picture him wanting to wipe my girl cooties off his hand like a kid would and smile.

Now I’m a tall woman, 5’10 without heels. He outdid me by a good 5 inches. I motion him to  sit in my only other chair in the office. I sit back down and fold my hands on top of my desk. I wait for him to make the first move. I”m curious now to see why he was here.

He takes off his fedora. At least he remembered his manners. “The ad also stated you specialize in finding things.”

“Things” I state, “Not people.”

“I’m not looking for someone, I’m looking for something.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to specify exactly what he was looking for. Or what he wanted me to look for.

“I need your help in finding a family keepsake”.

“Do you have a picture of this family keepsake?” I ask.

He takes a photo out of his coat pocket and slides it across the desk towards me. Picking it up I take a look. I shove the picture angrily back at him. “Is this a joke?” I ask. “It’s not funny.”

“You said you don’t find people, Watson. You never said you don’t find dogs”.

He’s watching me with those steely eyes and I could swear I see a flicker of humor. I must be mistaken. I’m still half way thinking it’s some kind of joke.

golden-retriever-dog-silhouette

“So, this dog is a family keepsake?”

“Actually, he is. My grandmother named  him Trisha. Tee for short.”

Him? Trisha is a he? I keep silent, still debating if I want to kick him out the door. For some reason, I want to hear him out. If it turns out to be some joke I can still kick his butt out the door. I have a black belt in jujitsu.  I also fight dirty. Besides, it’s been slow around here.

He pushes the picture of Tee back towards me. “My grandmother is an extremely wealthy woman. Throughout her life, she has always had a dog named Trisha. An odd little quirk of hers. Someone dog-napped Tee about 3 days ago. They are demanding 5 million in ransom  or they kill the dog. This would devastate grandmother. I can’t let that happen.”

Five million?? Grandmother must have money. I take another look at the picture. I am admittedly an animal lover. I have been known to pull my motorcycle over and kick some ass when I see someone abusing an animal. I look at those trusting eyes and wonder if I’m just nuts. Because I find myself wanting to accept the job. That and I glance at the pile of bills that refuses to get smaller. With a small sigh, I drop the picture on the desk. Glancing up at Fedora I ask him for the details of the kidnapping and the ransom demands. Looks like I’m going to be on the hunt for a small family keepsake named Tee.